Women Now For Development

Women Now For Development We are working to protect, empower and support women and girls in Syria and Lebanon.
Women Now For Development: Aims to engender the development of a society governed by democracy, freedom, and justice – a society where women have a meaningful role in everyday Syrian life.

Vision Our vision is of a Syrian society in which all people benefit from full human rights, dignity, freedom and justice; in which Syrian women play a meaningful and active role in political, social, cultural and economic life; and in which girls are protected from harm and safe to develop and grow. Mission Our mission is to initiate programmes led by Syrian women that protect Syrian women and girls across socio-economic backgrounds, and empower women to find their political voice and participate in building a new, peaceful Syria that respects and safeguards equal rights for all its citizens.

Mission: Mission statement Women empowerment and encourages women: Restart the circulation of economic life Support communities to create locate employment opportunities Achieve sustainability through self-supporting projects Provide funds by reinvesting the economic return in future projects Support the civil society: Support civil society in Syria. Building capacity and promoting the organizations staff Providing equipment for the groups. Mobilize and coordinate the support of organizations and direct them to those groups. Education: Building capacity and enough knowledge to work under the current situation. Build a new education system suitable with current situation. Create activating schools with the children in the collective centers and villages in Syria. المهمة والاهداف تختص سوريات بمجالات العمل التالية تمكين المراة وتفعيل دورها من خلال دعم المشاريع الاقتصادية الصغيرة التي تساهم في : - اعادة الدورة للحياة الاقتصادية للمنطقة - تشغيل يد عاملة أكبر في المنطقة - تامين دعم ذاتي للمستفيدين من خلال المشاريع - تامين دعم لمشاريع اخرى من خلال مردود المشاريع نفسها تفعيل المجتمع المدني : - دعم مجموعات المجتمع المدني في سوريا - بناء القدرات والمساعدات في تاهيل كوادر المنظمات المحلية - دعم المجموعات بالادوات اللازمة لتنفيذ المشاريع - العمل على تجميع الدعم لمختلف هذه المنظمات والعمل على توجيهه لهذه المنظمات التعليم : - تأهيل الكوادر اقادرة على العمل ضمن الظروف الحالية - العمل على نظام تعليمي يتوافق مع المرحلة الحالية - انشاء مدارس تفاعلية وثابتة مع الاطفال النازحين

Interview with Waad al-Kateab and Ed WattsFor Sama director: ‘My therapist ended up needing a therapist after I filmed t...
06/06/2019

Interview with Waad al-Kateab and Ed Watts

For Sama director: ‘My therapist ended up needing a therapist after I filmed the war in Syria’

Waad al-Kateab shot thousands of hours of footage of the war in Aleppo. The resulting film was the surprise hit of Cannes

On the sixth floor of the Marriott hotel in Cannes there is a bar. Spacious, dotted with glass tables and low white couches, it overlooks the beach and is a magnet for the glitterati who frequent the Cannes Film Festival.

Bill Murray partied hard here two nights ago with the cast of his new zombie movie (Adam Driver, Tilda Swinton, Chloë Sevigny). And in two nights’ time Brad Pitt and Leonardo DiCaprio will be schmoozing till the small hours during the after-party for Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.

For now, though, this exclusive celebrity enclave belongs to the modest and unassuming figure of Waad al-Kateab. The 26-year-old Syrian, who works under a pseudonym for her family’s protection, has made a documentary that has been the find of Cannes 2019. For Sama is a first-person account of living in east Aleppo for five years of the Syrian civil war. It is unlike any other war film, and certainly any other Syrian conflict documentary. At my screening the audience cried audibly.

By the end of the week For Sama will have won the festival’s Golden Eye award (for nonfiction), although there are questions here as to why it wasn’t entered into the main competition (where, like Michael Moore’s Fahrenheit 9/11 in 2004, it might have won the Palme d’Or). The critical reaction has been ecstatic and unanimous. I found it heartbreaking, savage and almost impossible to sit through.

Based mostly inside the makeshift hospital where Kateab’s husband, Hamza, worked as a doctor, and where Kateab eventually lived with their newborn daughter Sama, it is a litany of death, dismemberment and blood-spewing gore. The scream of Russian jets overhead is typically followed, minutes later, by a flood of shredded bodies into the emergency room.

Yet, seen entirely through Kateab’s sensitive eyes, the carnage is balanced with tenderness and love. When a mother comes rushing into the hospital to find her son, killed by a Russian bomb blast, she embraces his tiny corpse and howls in disbelief: “Wake up! Wake up! It’s Mum! I have your milk.”
The film is a distressing compendium of similar gut punches, culled from five years of witnessing and absorbing ineffable daily horrors. It leaves you changed simply for having seen it. Imagine what it was like to live it. “The thing is, I felt very strong when I was holding the camera because I felt that I was doing something,” says Kateab, who is sipping coffee in the near-deserted bar and staring out on to an unusually windswept seafront. She is a born conversationalist, impassioned and articulate, and only occasionally distracted by a phone that is bouncing off the table with messages (the film premiered the previous night — there is a buzz about). “But without the camera, I’m just a normal human being. And I’m weak.”

Kateab never wanted to be a film-maker. She was an economics student at the University of Aleppo in 2011 when her friends began demonstrating against the repressive regime of Bashar al-Assad. An early clip from then, casually filmed on a phone at a student demonstration, catches the young protesters chanting: “Muslims and Christians together! Our revolution is peaceful!”

When government crackdown turned into civil war, and east Aleppo became an increasingly hot target for Assad’s barrel bombs (seen, in the film, dropped from helicopters), Kateab began filming incessantly. It wasn’t, she says, born of some gutsy journalistic impulse, but of a need simply to bear witness. “I got a proper camera and I started filming all the time,” she says. “And everyone used to joke about me filming, and they’d tell me to stop, but when our friends started to get killed everything changed. We used the footage to remember them. Once the killing started no one ever told me again, ‘Don’t film.’ ”

Kateab filmed her life, she filmed chaos and carnage, and she filmed her burgeoning relationship with Hamza. The camera, she says, became “part of my body”. She then filmed her pregnancy, and the early days and weeks of life with baby Sama. She filmed a lot, in other words.

When she eventually escaped from Aleppo in 2016 she was invited by Channel 4 News to come to London to discuss the possibility of gathering her material (it had previously used some for its Inside Aleppo news slots) into a feature-length movie.

The first thing Channel 4 asked her was if she had any more footage. “Any more footage?” came the slightly incredulous response. Kateab was in possession of 12 full hard drives of video, with each hard drive holding roughly two terabytes of data, and each terabyte holding roughly 500 hours of video.

Kateab was assigned a co-director, Edward Watts, who had worked on the Channel 4 documentary series Dispatches. Over a two-year editing process the pair narrowed the footage down to 300 hours of usable material and began shaping it into the finished 95-minute film.

Watts says that it was a difficult, often deeply upsetting process. “The devastating stuff that you see in the film? There was a lot, a lot, a lot worse in the footage,” he says later. “It’s stuff that will always stay with me. Images of human suffering and horror that hopefully only me and Waad, and her friends in Syria, will ever have seen.”

It’s worth noting too that the material is well shot. Kateab is a natural film-maker who frames scenes with an artist’s eye. Her wedding scene with Hamza, for instance, is shot from multiple angles, with even a bold Hitchcockian overhead of the first dance. Modest to a fault, she begrudgingly admits that she may have talent, but mostly claims that it was about the “responsibility” of correctly telling the story of Aleppo.

Much has been made in Cannes about Kateab’s gender, and about the film being a rare glimpse of war from a female perspective. She understands this and admits that much of the strength in the film comes from the closely observed family relationships. “If I wasn’t female, I probably wouldn’t have become close to the families,” she says. “I’m visiting these people every day, and talking with them, and having dinner. But you get a journalist coming into Aleppo and they say, ‘OK, let’s follow a family.’ And they’re in Aleppo for a day, and they follow a family for one or two hours. They can’t capture anything.”

The film’s emotive masterstroke is in the ambiguity of its title. As those around and often closest to Kateab start to die on camera (a direct missile hit on the hospital decimates the staff), you realise, barely 30 minutes into the film, that the survival of Sama and Hamza is not at all guaranteed — indeed highly unlikely. The title For Sama suddenly acquires a horribly elegiac significance. I wrote repeatedly in my notes, while watching: “Don’t let her die — I can’t take it if she dies.” Or then you think: “Maybe it’s Hamza who dies?”
“But that’s exactly what it was like, on the ground, every single day,” says Kateab, her voice cracking with emotion. “It’s the worst idea, and you always have it in your mind. ‘Sama will be killed today. Hamza will be killed today.’ And you live that feeling every day. It’s with you all the time. And so I needed people, the audience, to go through this experience. Because it’s still happening in Syria now.”

Kateab now lives in east London with her husband and two daughters (she was pregnant with her second child while filming in Aleppo). Unsurprisingly, she is still haunted by her experiences. Her main problem, she says, are the nightmares. She has tried therapy, but her tales were so extreme that, she jokes, “my therapist ended up needing a therapist”. She says that she would like to try therapy again, but she sees her mental state as somehow linked to the fate of her country. “The issue of Syria will not get better because I’m going to therapy,” she says. “The injustice that I feel cannot be removed by a therapist.” Her husband is determined to return to Syria to work in public health.
She says that she hasn’t picked up a camera since leaving Syria, but is supposed to start shooting soon, as part of the Channel 4 News production team. She tried to distract her mind recently with some box set binge-watching, but made a mistake by choosing Game of Thrones. “I started watching it, but when Ned Stark was killed I fell to pieces,” she says. “I just wanted to see heroes triumph for once. It was a bad choice.”

Although decadent and glamorous Cannes seems like an unusual place to showcase a cri de coeur about Middle Eastern injustice, she says that the hype surrounding the film has meant that screenings for world politicians are already planned. (“The goal is a screening for the UN Security Council,” Watts tells me.)

In the meantime, despite the pain, the harrowing memories and the need to bear witness for the victims of Aleppo, Kateab does admit that sometimes she allows herself a tiny moment of pride. “The first time I saw the finished version of the film, I was able to stand outside myself and see it for what it was,” she says. “It came to the end, and all I could think was, ‘Oh my God. I really think I’ve made a good film.’ ”

THE TIMES - Interview with Waad al-Kateab and Ed Watts

For Sama director: ‘My therapist ended up needing a therapist after I filmed the war in Syria’

Waad al-Kateab shot thousands of hours of footage of the war in Aleppo. The resulting film was the surprise hit of Cannes

On the sixth floor of the Marriott hotel in Cannes there is a bar. Spacious, dotted with glass tables and low white couches, it overlooks the beach and is a magnet for the glitterati who frequent the Cannes Film Festival.

Bill Murray partied hard here two nights ago with the cast of his new zombie movie (Adam Driver, Tilda Swinton, Chloë Sevigny). And in two nights’ time Brad Pitt and Leonardo DiCaprio will be schmoozing till the small hours during the after-party for Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.

For now, though, this exclusive celebrity enclave belongs to the modest and unassuming figure of Waad al-Kateab. The 26-year-old Syrian, who works under a pseudonym for her family’s protection, has made a documentary that has been the find of Cannes 2019. For Sama is a first-person account of living in east Aleppo for five years of the Syrian civil war. It is unlike any other war film, and certainly any other Syrian conflict documentary. At my screening the audience cried audibly.

By the end of the week For Sama will have won the festival’s Golden Eye award (for nonfiction), although there are questions here as to why it wasn’t entered into the main competition (where, like Michael Moore’s Fahrenheit 9/11 in 2004, it might have won the Palme d’Or). The critical reaction has been ecstatic and unanimous. I found it heartbreaking, savage and almost impossible to sit through.

Based mostly inside the makeshift hospital where Kateab’s husband, Hamza, worked as a doctor, and where Kateab eventually lived with their newborn daughter Sama, it is a litany of death, dismemberment and blood-spewing gore. The scream of Russian jets overhead is typically followed, minutes later, by a flood of shredded bodies into the emergency room.

Yet, seen entirely through Kateab’s sensitive eyes, the carnage is balanced with tenderness and love. When a mother comes rushing into the hospital to find her son, killed by a Russian bomb blast, she embraces his tiny corpse and howls in disbelief: “Wake up! Wake up! It’s Mum! I have your milk.”
The film is a distressing compendium of similar gut punches, culled from five years of witnessing and absorbing ineffable daily horrors. It leaves you changed simply for having seen it. Imagine what it was like to live it. “The thing is, I felt very strong when I was holding the camera because I felt that I was doing something,” says Kateab, who is sipping coffee in the near-deserted bar and staring out on to an unusually windswept seafront. She is a born conversationalist, impassioned and articulate, and only occasionally distracted by a phone that is bouncing off the table with messages (the film premiered the previous night — there is a buzz about). “But without the camera, I’m just a normal human being. And I’m weak.”

Kateab never wanted to be a film-maker. She was an economics student at the University of Aleppo in 2011 when her friends began demonstrating against the repressive regime of Bashar al-Assad. An early clip from then, casually filmed on a phone at a student demonstration, catches the young protesters chanting: “Muslims and Christians together! Our revolution is peaceful!”

When government crackdown turned into civil war, and east Aleppo became an increasingly hot target for Assad’s barrel bombs (seen, in the film, dropped from helicopters), Kateab began filming incessantly. It wasn’t, she says, born of some gutsy journalistic impulse, but of a need simply to bear witness. “I got a proper camera and I started filming all the time,” she says. “And everyone used to joke about me filming, and they’d tell me to stop, but when our friends started to get killed everything changed. We used the footage to remember them. Once the killing started no one ever told me again, ‘Don’t film.’ ”

Kateab filmed her life, she filmed chaos and carnage, and she filmed her burgeoning relationship with Hamza. The camera, she says, became “part of my body”. She then filmed her pregnancy, and the early days and weeks of life with baby Sama. She filmed a lot, in other words.

When she eventually escaped from Aleppo in 2016 she was invited by Channel 4 News to come to London to discuss the possibility of gathering her material (it had previously used some for its Inside Aleppo news slots) into a feature-length movie.

The first thing Channel 4 asked her was if she had any more footage. “Any more footage?” came the slightly incredulous response. Kateab was in possession of 12 full hard drives of video, with each hard drive holding roughly two terabytes of data, and each terabyte holding roughly 500 hours of video.

Kateab was assigned a co-director, Edward Watts, who had worked on the Channel 4 documentary series Dispatches. Over a two-year editing process the pair narrowed the footage down to 300 hours of usable material and began shaping it into the finished 95-minute film.

Watts says that it was a difficult, often deeply upsetting process. “The devastating stuff that you see in the film? There was a lot, a lot, a lot worse in the footage,” he says later. “It’s stuff that will always stay with me. Images of human suffering and horror that hopefully only me and Waad, and her friends in Syria, will ever have seen.”

It’s worth noting too that the material is well shot. Kateab is a natural film-maker who frames scenes with an artist’s eye. Her wedding scene with Hamza, for instance, is shot from multiple angles, with even a bold Hitchcockian overhead of the first dance. Modest to a fault, she begrudgingly admits that she may have talent, but mostly claims that it was about the “responsibility” of correctly telling the story of Aleppo.

Much has been made in Cannes about Kateab’s gender, and about the film being a rare glimpse of war from a female perspective. She understands this and admits that much of the strength in the film comes from the closely observed family relationships. “If I wasn’t female, I probably wouldn’t have become close to the families,” she says. “I’m visiting these people every day, and talking with them, and having dinner. But you get a journalist coming into Aleppo and they say, ‘OK, let’s follow a family.’ And they’re in Aleppo for a day, and they follow a family for one or two hours. They can’t capture anything.”

The film’s emotive masterstroke is in the ambiguity of its title. As those around and often closest to Kateab start to die on camera (a direct missile hit on the hospital decimates the staff), you realise, barely 30 minutes into the film, that the survival of Sama and Hamza is not at all guaranteed — indeed highly unlikely. The title For Sama suddenly acquires a horribly elegiac significance. I wrote repeatedly in my notes, while watching: “Don’t let her die — I can’t take it if she dies.” Or then you think: “Maybe it’s Hamza who dies?”
“But that’s exactly what it was like, on the ground, every single day,” says Kateab, her voice cracking with emotion. “It’s the worst idea, and you always have it in your mind. ‘Sama will be killed today. Hamza will be killed today.’ And you live that feeling every day. It’s with you all the time. And so I needed people, the audience, to go through this experience. Because it’s still happening in Syria now.”

Kateab now lives in east London with her husband and two daughters (she was pregnant with her second child while filming in Aleppo). Unsurprisingly, she is still haunted by her experiences. Her main problem, she says, are the nightmares. She has tried therapy, but her tales were so extreme that, she jokes, “my therapist ended up needing a therapist”. She says that she would like to try therapy again, but she sees her mental state as somehow linked to the fate of her country. “The issue of Syria will not get better because I’m going to therapy,” she says. “The injustice that I feel cannot be removed by a therapist.” Her husband is determined to return to Syria to work in public health.
She says that she hasn’t picked up a camera since leaving Syria, but is supposed to start shooting soon, as part of the Channel 4 News production team. She tried to distract her mind recently with some box set binge-watching, but made a mistake by choosing Game of Thrones. “I started watching it, but when Ned Stark was killed I fell to pieces,” she says. “I just wanted to see heroes triumph for once. It was a bad choice.”

Although decadent and glamorous Cannes seems like an unusual place to showcase a cri de coeur about Middle Eastern injustice, she says that the hype surrounding the film has meant that screenings for world politicians are already planned. (“The goal is a screening for the UN Security Council,” Watts tells me.)

In the meantime, despite the pain, the harrowing memories and the need to bear witness for the victims of Aleppo, Kateab does admit that sometimes she allows herself a tiny moment of pride. “The first time I saw the finished version of the film, I was able to stand outside myself and see it for what it was,” she says. “It came to the end, and all I could think was, ‘Oh my God. I really think I’ve made a good film.’ ”

For Sama will be screened at Sheffield Doc/Fest on June 8 and 10, and shown on Channel 4 in the autumn

Adresse

9 Villa D'Este - Tour Mantoue
Paris
75013

Heures d'ouverture

Lundi 09:00 - 18:00
Mardi 09:00 - 18:00
Mercredi 09:00 - 18:00
Jeudi 09:00 - 18:00
Vendredi 09:00 - 18:00

Notifications

Soyez le premier à savoir et laissez-nous vous envoyer un courriel lorsque Women Now For Development publie des nouvelles et des promotions. Votre adresse e-mail ne sera pas utilisée à d'autres fins, et vous pouvez vous désabonner à tout moment.

Contacter L'entreprise

Envoyer un message à Women Now For Development:

Vidéos

Organisations à But Non Lucratifss á proximité


Autres Organisation non gouvernementale (ONG) à Paris

Voir Toutes